


Habits

by Anonymous



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Belly Kink, Comfort, Comfort Food, Fantastic Racism, Feels, M/M, No Sex, Porn with Feelings, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Starscream develops stuffing his tank silly full into a coping mechanism. It's not a good way to replace having a friend, but thankfully he develops a friendship too.---Technically a sequel to my "Scientific Curiosity" fanfic. That one is pretty much pure kink so you don't have to read that one to get what's happening here.
Relationships: Jetfire | Skyfire & Starscream (Transformers), Jetfire | Skyfire/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27
Collections: Anonymous





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> In case you haven't read the tags, this is a belly kink fic. You've been warned.  
> Now enjoy!

So this probably wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, the cold and logical part of Starscream's processor supplied.

But it did feel good, was what the tiny, emotional part of himself countered with.

The 'it' in question was stuffing his tanks overfull when his strained bond to his trinemates was getting to him. 

No, he did not miss the younger brother's pranks or the nights where the older brother would sob to corny soap operas. But their sparks were connected and he missed, well, them. Yeah, of course they chatted through comms and even did videocalls, but that didn't quite trigger his spark to release the almost addictive warmth of his defacto family being there.

And so, Starscream went for an artificial way of producing that comforting feeling, which was the aforementioned stuffing himself to a system shutdown. It of course did not compare to the feeling of a co-joined spark, but it was something nice and distracting.

But it'll have negative effects on you, his hard logic screamed at him once more, making him hyperaware of the permanent tightness below his waist's armor. Like it wasn't a perfect fit anymore. Obviously, nothing showed (not yet, some part of himself ashamed at the gluttony unhelpfully chipped in), but just the fact there was a pudge growing under there that he could feel was enough to send him down the memory lane of being trained to be part of the Vosian army and how this would be unacceptable there.

But he was not a war-caste at heart, he told himself. He was part of the intellectual-caste and he will soon have a degree in the fragging Iacon Academy to show it and mechs who worked in labs didn't need to be in absolutely perfect shape.

With that resolve he went through the Academy's corridors, going straight for the exit. His back straight, chin high, wings spread at a proud angle, he might've almost made up for being relatively short. The freshmen that saw him as he left surely knew who not to mess with.

Well, maybe except one, as the clumsy heavy-frame bumped into his wing. Honestly, it probably hurt Starscream himself more than the younger bot, but the tank-former seemed not to care as he exclaimed "If you've been accepted into a grounder space, at least fold those goddamn things! I don't know how things work in Vos, but in Kaon at least you'd be asking for a fight!"

Ah, a stupid heavy-frame and a stupid Kaonite. That said it all.

"If you weren't so insistent in standing in the middle of the corridor, there would be no problem." Starscream said with obviously fake calmness. "I'm sure a mech that wastes as much space as you would know that." It was a low blow, he knew. Laughing at another's frametype was really low, he knew very well. But being mean gave him satisfaction so here he was.

He barely cracked his optics open, when his nowadays barely used battle computer sprung to life, seeing the tank-former charge at him.

Even when out of practice, this was hard-coded into his processor. He swerved to the left, the heavy-frame's fist hitting the floor (and just barely missing his wing).

He was about to analyze the best way to go about scratching the Kaonite's optics out, when a professor stepped in-between them.

Starscream was absolutely not barely resisting the coolant threatening to spill from his optics, as the authority figure complained about 'stupid war-caste seeking a fight' and 'changing caste being a myth'.

He could use his trinemates right about now.

It was really early morning in Vos though, so bothering them right now even Starscream could admit was selfish.

He wanted to fly to his apartment, but... he didn't really trust himself to fly in a straight line right now. ('You're a failed war-caste and a failed intellectual-caste' his processor very unhelpfully supplied.) And thus, he sat on a bench in front of his school, fairly secluded.

His spark wanted to pull him east, to where Vos, and by consequence Skywarp and Thundercracker, was. But he knew the travel is too long to take in-between working days. 

In response to the cold insatisfaction in his chassis, his systems pinged him with the suggestion to fuel. Even though he was solidly at 50% capacity. Pathetic.

Starscream would later fiercely deny that he ever moped in his function, but he absolutely was right now.

He didn't even notice a mech approaching until he sat down next to him.

Starscream instictively glared up at the intruder and flared his wings, surprised when a pair of wings drooped in response. 

A flier. The other mech was a flier. Or, more precisely, a shuttle, judging by the size. Starscream's dominating demeanor dropped just a bit at the revelation.

"What?" he snarled nonetheless.

"I, uh," the shuttle - Starscream was quite sure he'd seen him before - stuttered "wanted to ask if you're alright."

"You're a flier, so I'm quite sure you can tell by my high-held wings that I am perfectly fine," the seeked snapped, the glare returning to his features.

"Uhm, Starscream?" the bigger mech replied gently. "Your wings were drooped before you noticed me."

There was a klik of silence between them.

"Frag," the seeker swore under his breath, his wings - the treacherous slabs of metal - loosening a little, now that he's been discovered.

More awkward silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" the shuttle asked.

"No," Starscream replied firmly. Admitting to something like missing his family was the last thing he needed.

"You want to come over and have some high-grade?" he tried again. When not being immadiently shut down, he continued "My apartment's not too far away and I can even walk you to your place if we get too overenergized to fly."

Starscream... considered the offer. This mech was a shuttle, and while his accent was distinctly Iaconian, the seeker was quite sure that put him in the 'doesn't see you as shareware' bag. His spark trecherously pulsed in a reminder of how long it's been since he'd had another mech to drink with. His half-empty tank trecherously pinged him with a suggestion to fuel. 

"Fine," he agreed at last. "But the stuff's on you."

\---

Skyfire still couldn't comprehend that this was actually happening. He was having Starscream, one of the most popular students in the Academy, over in his place.

And it turns out the seeker remembers him by the name, too! When he hesitantly introduced himself on their walk home, he replied with 'Skyfire? I have class with you, don't I?'

Now he was fumbling with his keycard to his apartment, letting the seeker (who crossed his arms over his cockpit impatiently) inside.

The place wasn't too big. Well, actually, it was pretty standard, but it had to be adapted for a bigger mech, so it was only two rooms instead of typical three or four. He had the main room, where there was his berth, his desk, his teleconsole and in the corner his kitchen. The other room was his washracks. 

It seemed that in absence of a couch, Starscream sat down on the berth, like he owned the place. Skyfire was almost impressed, how the smaller flier managed to carry himself with such confidence at almost all times.

It would be awkward if they just stood in place, in silence, so he went to get the promised high-grade.

He didn't own smaller cubes, only the ones made with heavy- and transport-frames in mind. So he poured a full cube for himself and half a cube for his guest. Afterall, the seeker was so thin, he doubted his tanks could even fit that much fuel comfortably?

"You're kidding, right?" the seeker deadpanned when he was presented the half-full cube. And, on second thought, he was right. Looking at how under the weather Starscream had looked on that bench, he probably had in mind something more like getting completely wasted than having a polite sip. Skyfire promptly filled up the to full.

"Put on a movie?" he asked as he settled himself next to his guest.

"Yeah, sure," Starscream mumbled, his optics more focused on the rich-looking high-grade. 

He turned on the teleconsole, luck would have it some corny soap opera was on. He looked over to his guest with a questioning look, but any actual words died in his intake as he witnessed the lithe mech gulping down half a big cube in one go- where did all this fuel even fit? And damn, why was he hot, even when exhibiting rude dining habits?

Skyfire shook his helm and asked the seeker "Can this stay on?"

Starscream looked kind of hazily at the screen, where a petite two-wheeler was being flirtatious with a typical Velocitronian racecar. He narrowed his optics and mumbled "Thundercracker would love this, I bet."

Skyfire had no idea who Thundercracker was (some friend of Starscream, probably?), but he did learn that while the seeker possessed quite a spacious fuel tank, he was still a light-weight, as he already seemed affected by the high-grade. 

"He likes dramas?" the shuttle inquiered, hoping to start an actual conversation with his guest.

"Dramas, soap operas, romcoms, novels, you name it," Starscream replied. "He's always been a sap. You two would probably get along," he added. Being told the seeker's friend would like him was already a point in Skyfire's book. He had always been fascinated with the only other flier in the Academy and he hoped they could become friends, eventually. (It was not, as Wheeljack eloquently put it, 'a big fat crush'.)

There seemed to be a marathon of the show today, and while neither of them would admit, they got drawn into the cheap drama between Speedy, his Velocitronian lover Dustsettler and his jealous seeker friend Stardust. And thus, they just kept the teleconsole on this station, not speaking a word about it.

Skyfire was only a quarter into his own cube when his guest nudged him with a wing and pointed at his empty cube - how? - either asking to put it back or ask for a refill. Since he said nothing, the shuttle had to guess which one it was.

He took the cube uncertainly and gave one more look to Starscream. The seeker likely caught on, as he rolled his optics and said "One more, please?"

Skyfire nodded and got up to refill his guest's cube.

\---

He absolutely should stop about now, the small portion of Starscream's processor that still wasn't wasted told him, as he discreetely looked at the '100% tank capacity reached' notification on his HUD. He could definitively feel the familiar tightness around his midsection and was a bit paranoid that it was showing, when the permanent paunch was taken into account.

Even though Skyfire was sort of a loser with no important acquaintances in the Academy (which is the only reason he'd even considered letting his mask slip a little around him acceptable), any mech who would say they saw 'the most attractive current student' indulge themselves like a hungry scraplet would get attention, if just to spite the seeker.

Conclusion, he could not go overboard while visiting Skyfire.

But it would feel good, the majority if his overenergized processor argued childishly. He could down some more high-grade, let himself go, relax, feel nice.

Take off the mask in someone's presence, at last, his ever-lonely spark supplied.

It didn't help his resolve that the shuttle was glancing at him when he thought the seeker wouldn't notice. Was he looking like a gluttonous drunkard?

He tried to banish the thought from his processor by focusing on the corny show. He had to admit, it was pretty progressive to even entertain the idea of a flier hooking up with a grounder, even if it was obvious the main character will get the Velocitronian femme in the end. 

"Why," the protagonist, Speedy, cried. "I can't just be casual with her! She's from Velocitron, she won't like me if I won't be interested in races! ...But I hate racing. I'd rather have a quiet, stable job..."

Frag it, his mostly-inebriated processor decided, frag expectations. It's a me night tonight. Worst case scenario, I will have to ruin one shuttle's almost non-existent social life so that noone believes him. Easy.

With that resolve, Starscream gobbled down the remaining half of his second cube, giving in to his lately spoiled tummy's demands. He moved his servo over his tank inconspicuously and, yep, he could feel the swell of it with his servo. No turning back now.

\---

By the time the marathon had ended, Skyfire was unmistakably tipsy, half-way through his third cube.

Starscream was freshly done with his third cube. However considering how his cubes were almost twice the volume of standard ones, it should be said that's six for Starscream. How it all fit in that lithe frame, Skyfire could not understand. The seeker was now quite buzzed, lying down somewhat sleepily, his servos folded over his midsection. 

Was his belly aching? That would be a sound conclusion, given how much fuel he'd just consumed. And he probably didn't usually fuel to full to begin with, or so he heard bots who were built for speed were taught.

"Are you ok, Starscream?" he asked cautiously.

He mostly expected a stubborn yes, or maybe a snarling no. He did not expect what the seeker actually said, which was "When am I ever okay?"

He must be very much overcharged. But it was also the most honest-sounding thing he ever heard the bot utter. He took a risky move and prompted "Why would you say that?"

There was a brief pause in which the shuttle feared he'd overstepped. Thankfully it did not last.

"Slag, Sky. Back in Vos are my brothers. I'm sparkbound to them. Being away for so long is such a torture," he started rambling, as if a dam broke. "I miss bickering with Skywarp, or him bringing home weird stuff he'd found. And Thundercracker would sigh as if he had enough of us, but in reality we know he loves us a lot and- frag- Primus, I miss sleeping in a pile, where it's so warm and comfy and-"

Skyfire cut him off by pulling the seeker into a hug. He might not know the small flier very well, but something he had gathered is that he desperately needs one.

It took Starscream a second, but he wrapped his servos around the shuttle, his taloons slightly digging in needily.

He did not know how long they stayed like that, but they pulled away when coolant stopped flowing from the seeker's optics (Primus, he, Skyfire, a nobody, saw the famously above-it-all Starscream cry).

As the smaller mech wiped at his stained faceplates, Skyfire took the sight in. The seemingly unbreakable Starscream, showing such soft feelings. Surely not something you see every day.

His gaze froze when it fell onto Starscream's tank. His unmistakable buldge of a swollen tank. 

The temptation to ghost his servo over it was way too strong in Skyfire's processor buzzed with high-grade and the weight of the emotional moment.

Starscream seemed to blush at the contact, most likely embarrassed.

"I, uh," it was the seeker's turn to stutter. "I might or might've not picked up comfort fueling from all that." Wow, the mech really had no stops when overenergized, huh? He could ask anything and it seems there's a good chance the smaller mech would tell him.

"Well," the shuttle began another risky move. He shouldn't try it, logically, but slag, Starscream was a real sight right now. "Do you think you'd fit more?"

"Totally," the lithe- or maybe not to lithe anymore- mech stated, a proud smirk pushing onto his faceplates. Of course he'll take it better if he frames it as something impressive, not embarrassing. The seeker even pushed out his gut a little outward, as if making a show- and he was indeed making a show in Skyfire's eyes.

Wordlessly, the shuttle stumbled into the kitchen and took a packaging cube of sweet energon syrup.

He glanced back at the seeker, who was, seemingly subconsciously, rubbing his belly in anticipation.

This might be fun.

\---

Starscream was vaguely aware he just spilled his two biggest insecurities (his loneliness and his stupid coping habit) to a nigh-stranger. Key-word, vaguely. He was just aware of it enough to feel good about being accepted, yet not enough to dive into paranoia that this might be just an act. The just right level of inebriation.

When he saw his new acquaintance pull out some more consumable stuff, his processor almost short-circuited. Was the shuttle going to encourage the habit? Frag yeah. His tanks were at what he these days deemed a point of no return, where the intoxicating gluttony usually drew him to fuel until he felt too heavy to move to get more and the fullness lulled him to sleep.

Except now there was another mech there, who could always get up to get more for him. Frag, he might get more stuffed than ever like this. The idea was strangely desirable. To be so full he might burst, for his plating to be way too tight for his abused tummy.

"More than one," he said before Skyfire closed the cooler. "Don't underestimate me," he added while patting his gut, since it was obvious this was turning the mech on, and he might as well feel desirable while he's at it, even though there wasn't much sexual appeal here beyond the praise that might come his way.

The shuttle came back to berth with two cubes packages of energon syrup and a bag of sodium crackers. He sat on the berth and handed the seeker the first bottle. The liquid inside was almost unwatered energon with metal additives, like gold - cool, rich, creamy, sticky, sweet, settling heavily in his discended tank. It was such a comforter drink, too, making Starscream feel full and heavy quite quickly. Slag, he'll need tj get some of that stuff for himself.

In-between swigs of the syrup, he chomped down on a servoful or two of the sodium crackers. Their spicy taste helped him not get sick from the sweetness of the main event - how nice of Sky to consider that.

It was three fourths into the cube that he'd give up and let recharge claim him. His plating felt too tight on him to move his poor midsection and he felt nicely warm from all the fuel being digested at a fast pace, his tank trying to keep up with his gluttony. But that's what Skyfire - currently gawking at the mount of his belly - was here for.

"Help me finish the job," Starscream slurred and pushed the syrup into the shuttle's hand.

The bigger mech moved him onto his lap (all this jostling upset his tank, but frag his tank at this point, this was its fault in the first place). The seeker absent-mindedly noted that now he was warm from inside and outside and it felt great.

The huge servos were placed on his curvature and rubbed in a soothing way. They were both mildly surprised when it turned out Skyfire could sctually squish it in certain places ever-so-slightly.

That's the permanent tightness below his plating, Starscream mused.

Skyfire on the other servo pinched at the thin layer teasingly and muttered "Seems all this comfort fueling gave you a chubby little tummy."

"Utter that phrase one more time and I'll make sure you'll be my next meal," the seeker threatened. He briefly entertained the thought of having a whole mech-worth of fuel in his gut. His plating would be unbelievably tight, trying to fit a whole another mech under. 

"Aww," he cooed. Tipsy Skyfire was appatently bold Skyfire. "But your chubby little tummy is so endearing, how can I not mention it?"

The shuttle successfully made the seeker blush.

One servo was then removed from his midsection, reaching for the unfinished cube instead.

It was so much easier to finish it off then he didn't need to move a single taloon to get the fuel into his intake. All that was left was to focus on the stretch of his tank and feeling of getting heavier. He bet his weight was ever-so-slightly crushing the other flier's thighs.

Starscream supposed he could rub his own swollen belly, but Skyfire was already doing it and he was feeling too full even to move his servos. So he just gave himself to the shuttle. He would fill the seeker up nice and round, no nook or cranny of free space under his plating left, the stuffed mech was sure.

"Primus, Star, I can feel your tank vibrating from the effort," was whispered into his audial.

"Don't listen to that fragger," the seeker slurred, poking his bloated tummy for emphasis. "Always underestimating our abilities."

"Arguing with your own belly?" the shuttle chuckled.

"Well, it's the spark that's in charge, isn't it?" Starscream replied nonchalantly. "And the spark says yes please more," he finished and opened his intake like a sparkling for Skyfire. 

The last cube of sweetness flushed past his denta and glossa, down his pipe, into the abused tank. Starscream swore he could feel it stretch with every chug of the sweet syrup. Since he was sat up, he could also feel it stretch enough, and with the dense syrup low in his bellh enough, to just barely brush his thighs. Primus, he was so full, so tight, so blissfully warm.

He was so stretched, in fact, that it finally felt like a little much, like his fuel tank really was running out of room at long last.

But Starscream drew on his unending stubbornness to finish this off. He was not giving up so near the end.

Thevlast drops of syrup went down, as the abused metal of his whole torso croaked with the effort not to burst.

"Look at yourself," Skyfire told him, both servos rubbing soothing circles on the stretched to the brim belly. Starscream fought to online his optics, seemingly too full to do even that. "You did so good," he pat as if in reward. "I've never seen someone so stunningly slim swallow this stunningly much. How will you fly home? Could you even fly with all this in your tank?" 

The seeker replied with vague content noises and a mutter of "Too heavy to move. Staying here," before the combination of Skyfire rubbing the soothing circles into his tummy, and the feeling of warm, full, tight from said tummy lulled him into blissful recharge.

Once again, the hangover, the inevitable weight gain and also the panic of opening up to another mech was left as a trouble for tommorow's Starscream.

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to add feels into the mix, alright? Ever since I posted "Scientific Curiosity" yesterday, this had been floating around in my mind. I couldn't stop myself lmao


End file.
